


Before the Storm, Part I

by TerriblyRogue



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/F, Gen, skimmons - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-07
Updated: 2014-05-07
Packaged: 2018-01-23 21:27:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1580132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TerriblyRogue/pseuds/TerriblyRogue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coulson and his team have a few days to regroup in Providence after getting Skye back from Ward. Skye tries to reconnect with Simmons while processing Ward’s betrayal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wounds

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: No characters in this story belong to me. All work and characters derived from Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.
> 
>  
> 
> \----
> 
> Hello, I royally screwed up and accidentally deleted this work while trying to upload the continuation. I apologize profusely for whatever inconvenience this may cause. 
> 
> Trust me, losing proof of the hits and those two really nice comments hurts me more than anyone.
> 
> I will, however, post the continuation simultaneously, so that those that have read this work already aren't so incredibly disappointed in me.
> 
> Do forgive me.
> 
> \----

She was back. Managed to get away from Ward when they came to a standstill. After their masks had fallen off, whatever horror Skye felt over Ward’s actions was suppressed by lingering affections. He hesitated to pull the trigger, but she didn’t. Still, benevolent in her aim, he kept his life in return for hers. 

That didn’t stop him from calling the local Hydra group for backup. He could let Skye go, but not the drive. He held back. Waited a minute longer than he needed to. Skye knew that. 

Coulson, May and Hill’s team -whatever the FBI could and would spare for a mission they considered non-essential- proved fierce enough to keep Hydra back at the rendezvous place Skye had pointed to in the bathroom before leaving Providence. As Skye approached the meeting place, she was relieved to see her team, and tensed up again when she saw they were under fire. Even Fitz and Simmons had semi-automatic weapons. _I hope they’re not counting on them actually hitting anything_ , a thought that only occupied a tiny sliver of her attention, as the rest of her was concentrated on moving from cover to cover, avoiding an early grave. 

She eventually gets to the friendlies, and is ordered by May to the back of the field with Fitz and Simmons. Simmons grabs her by the elbows, guiding her to safety, and Skye glares back to the field the with sound of Fitz shouting, “Is that Ward?”. There he stood, commanding to one of the men in the distance. One of them complies and before Skye can react, a grenade lands closer than is comfortable. “Get back!”, Hill shouted.

–

Skye was regaining consciousness. She’s being carried by May and Hill to the infirmary in Providence. _She was really back_ , she thought. “Put her there”, she could hear Simmons say.

“I’m okay”, Skye said. She could walk now, and tapped Agent May on the shoulder to let her now she could let go. She sat on one of the beds. Trying to retain some composure, she smiled calmly as Simmons drew near. She noticed blood on Simmons’ temple and cheeks, her left arm covered in pieces of gravel. It looks like she landed on it. 

“Simmons, what are you doing, you’re hurt”, Skye said.

“It’s all right, Fitz already fussed about it. I’ll be fine, it’s you I’m concerned about…”, Simmons replied. She took a quick glance at Skye and continued, “It doesn’t seem deep, you’re lucky it wasn’t a direct hit. At any rate, I need to clean it.” 

Skye followed the focal point of Simmons’ stare. She hadn’t noticed the laceration below her clavicle. It looked as if it could’ve been much worse. She figured a lot of important, life-keeping parts of the human body were in that region. She instinctively tries to undo the upper buttons on her shirt, -maybe she could salvage it- but a sharp pain shot up her arm, and stopped herself. Simmons notices, and absentmindedly unbuttons it for her. 

“Sorry,” she said, “You were taking too long.” 

“Hey, no, anytime,” Skye said. Simmons seemed entertained by her answer. 

The infirmary was now quieter, with the initial frenzy dying down, and with all non-essentials leaving the room, Simmons could relax. She looked like she wanted to say something. Skye tried to lock eyes with her, curious as to what their next exchange would be.

“Skye,” Simmons said.

“Hmm?”

“I thank you for the heroics, but you could’ve gotten really hurt out there.”

“Well, not that I remember any of it, but I was probably trying to save you from your own outbursts of bravery.” She looked at Simmons, unsure on whether she should finish her sentence. “…Maybe if you stopped trying to outdo Captain America, I’d sleep better at night.”

“First of all, You know I have no control over those. Second, I think that out of the two of us, I’m the one whose sleep is more disturbed.” 

Simmons finished cleaning around the wound, and now the shrapnel must be taken out.

“This will hurt”, Simmons said. 

_Why is she the one wearing the pained expression?_ , Skye thought. Simmons started with the biggest piece, and Skye clutched the bed rails. 

“Sorry”, Simmons offered, unable to really help with her suffering. 

“Christ, Simmons.”

“Don’t worry, I brought you back from the near dead, I think I can handle your paper cut.”

The worst is passed, and Skye can feel the adrenaline wearing off. Simmons is focused on her task and humming, which tells Skye she’s enjoying repairing broken human bodies. The blood on Simmons’ temple is distracting to her now; dark red on a pale canvas. 

“Yeah, I’m in good hands,” Skye whispers. 


	2. Sitrep.

She hadn’t spent more than a few days in Providence before taking off with Ward, but sitting on her bunk again gave her a sense of familiarity. She wanted a moment to think about what just happened, and the team wouldn’t bother her here for a while. Ward crowded her mind. She learned to love and to trust, and now felt like a fool. Her expression remained unchanged as she tried to make sense of their relationship. It made Skye angry. Still S.O. Ward, the part of him that cared, would have told her to always go forward, to keep focused. The room was colder now, her joints feeling it before her mind, and to keep warm, she had to keep moving. She found her footing, and lifted herself off the bed. 

It was time to meet Coulson and the rest of the team. They held the gathering in Koenig’s old office. Coulson had a determined look about him. “We need to figure out out next step,” Coulson said.

“We’re vulnerable right now, but they seem occupied enough seizing all of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s bases that we could regroup,” Hill said. May turned to her, and then exchanged looks with Coulson.

“They still have Deathlok”, May said.

“You mean Mike,” Skye added.

“I know,” Coulson said with an empathetic tone, “but we can’t afford to think like that anymore.”

“What the hell does that even mean?” Skye said, repositioning herself on her chair, flinching with pain.

"It means they’re coming after us, sooner or later. Skye, you said Ward was hurt, and the fact you’re alive means he let you go, or at least Garrett will think that. He won’t risk you two in the same room again, but he’ll use Mike to make it personal,” Coulson said. Skye would have been offended, if she didn’t agree.

“Can your team find a way to eliminate him? We’re dealing with familiar enough technology,” Hill said. Fitz and Simmons looked at each other. 

“ _Eliminate_? We know him.”, Skye said as she stood up and tried to connect eyes with the people in the room.

“We can do it,” Simmons said, avoiding Skye’s glare, “Modify the ICERS, give him a much larger dose of dendrotoxin. If it doesn’t kill him, it could disable him long enough for Fitz to—“ 

"Simmons!,” Skye said, now looking outraged.

“If he’s compromised, Garett will pull the plug himself,” Coulson said.

“We need to find him first,” May said.

“Agreed. Fitz, Triplett, change the parameters on our security system, only we go in or out,“ Coulson said, ”Simmons, get working on the ICERS. And Skye, do what you can to locate him. Use the grid, if he or anyone else associated with Hydra goes out for a cup of coffee, I want to know about it."

Skye looks defeated, and sits back down in front of her laptop. 

–

It had been over twenty-four hours. There wasn’t much for Skye to do, other than wait for the NSA’s satellite grid to be fruitful in its search. 

She wanders the halls. She finds Fitz compiling items into a black case. Skye came closer to assess if she should be worried about what was likely to be the equipment for their next outing. 

“Bloody hell”, he said. He looked frustrated. 

“What’s wrong?”, Skye asked. 

“Huh?” Fitz hadn’t noticed her. 

“Need help?”

“Skye. No. Sorry, I thought you were Jemma.” 

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“It’s quite all right,” he said serenely, waving his hands. Skye thought it amusing enough to not feel offended by his dismissal.

Fitz closed the case and quickly put his hands to his sides. Skye knew that meant he was trying to solve something. “What’s going on, Fitz?”, Skye asked. 

“Oh, nothing, I’m just being abandoned by my best friend and replaced by a bloody Howling Commando. What’s up with you?”

“Same,” Skye said with a casual smile. Fitz’s face lighted up a bit. “So, she avoiding you, too? I was hoping you would know where her mind was.”

“No. She just… She wants answers I can’t give.” His eyes now directed at the floor. Skye now had her listening face on. “Things are changing, I guess,” he continued. Skye moved in for a hug. “Fitz, it’ll be okay,” Skye said while maintaining the one sided hug until Fitz melted into it. “Ah!”, Skye shouted, remembering her wound. Fitz loosened his grip immediately and said in a worried tone, “You should probably have Jemma look at that again.”

Their moment was cut short when Triplett walked in and said, “Coulson needs you, Agent Fitz.” As soon as he’d said it, he gave a nod to Skye to acknowledge her presence and went on his way. “Triplett,” he said under his breath while glaring at the door.


	3. Contact

She dreaded heading to Simmons directly. She was never one to shy away from confrontation, but this time she was actually concerned about the outcome. Simmons suggesting deadly force either meant she was changing her core, or that Skye didn’t know her at all. And that she was drifting away from Fitz was worrying in its own right.

She felt bad enough about the doctor’s past being completely erased -someone who treasured official degrees-, it was worse that it had happened by her hand. She knew Simmons wouldn’t make it personal, she’d just accept it and eventually move on. That’s what Fitz must be afraid of, his Jemma not needing him anymore. 

Skye approached the infirmary’s open door and knocked on it. Simmons looked up. Seeing the pain in Skye’s eyes, she motions to one of the beds. Skye sat, now able to undo her shirt without major difficulty. Simmons approached her and put on gloves. Without saying a word, she examined Skye. She was uncharacteristically disheveled but seemed more secure in her step. _She doesn’t give a damn, anymore,_ Skye though. Her strict face made Skye feel as if she was just another patient. 

“Dr. Simmons, are you okay?” Skye said. Teasing at inappropriate times, that was Skye’s superpower. Simmons couldn’t inhibit her smile, but she could look down to obscure it.

“Technically, I’m not a doctor anymore,” Simmons replied.

“Then why do you keep stabbing me for blood?” Skye asked.

“It’s for safekeeping. I can catalogue samples. I’m just curious,” Simmons assured her.

“You and me both,” Skye said. 

“What do you mean?” Simmons asked. She put down the swab and picked up a clean bandage, positioning on Skye’s wound.

“You just seem different, is all. I kinda wanted to know what was going on,” Skye said. 

Simmons stopped on her tracks and looked at Skye and said, “Why would you say that?” Her tone was sweeter now.

“Nothing,” Skye said, picking at the seams in her jeans, “I just haven’t seen you in a while, and with everything that’s happened, if you wanna talk about it…”

Simmons swallowed and kept her silence. She finished placing the bandages. Now Skye had looked away, frustrated. “You’re all done. You can get up now,” Simmons said.

“Oh. Okay,” Skye said while getting off the bed.


	4. Grub.

She doesn’t remember her old exercise routine taking this long, and she swears the heavy bag is hitting back this time. It’s not the same alone. The voice yelling at her to keep going would have to be her own. The area below her collarbone is itching. The sweat is getting into the wound. She had almost healed, but still, Simmons would never approve of exercise this soon. _Good thing she’s sleeping_ , Skye thought. 

“Hungry now,” Skye said to herself. Non-perishables abound in the kitchen, and it’s late, so she won’t have to pretend to be civilized and put everything in a plate before wolfing it down. 

She heads to the kitchen. The hallways are empty and grey, but there’s touches of warmth everywhere. The place should be even more depressing, after all it’s a military base, but the directional lights carefully positioned to draw attention to the hanging paintings and posters made it look like a gallery. _Koenig must’ve put those up; made the place a home,_ Skye thought. She continues her path and finds herself quickly kneeling next to a larder, grabbing canned tuna and a fork. 

“Skye,” Jemma said. Skye was startled and jumped back to a standing position. She not only forgot to check her corners, she missed her right-in-front-of-her-face. Ward would be mad. “Jemma Simmons, hi!” Skye said, trying to cover up her mortification with an energetic response.

Simmons chuckled. “Mary Sue Poop, hello,” she said.

“ _Poots_. And, no. Just… No.”

“It’s quite wise to keep yourself well fed when training, but as your physician by default, I’d rather you did at a proper hour. And that you’d stop exerting yourself two minutes after I patch you up,” Simmons said in a long breath.

“Huh. No five-dollar words after 2 a.m., please.” Simmons smiled. Skye took it as an invitation to sit next to her. She was having a cup of tea and a single, untouched, scone. _Where did she even get sweets?,_ Skye thought. 

“So, can’t sleep either?” Skye asked.

Simmons shakes her head. She was getting better at that puzzling look.

“Are you eating that?” asked Skye.

Simmons shook her head again. Skye took a bite off the scone and examined Simmons’ expression.

“Fine, Simmons, use the big words if you have to,” Skye said, teasing her.

Simmons reclined in her chair and released the tension on her shoulders with a deep breath. “Sorry, I’m just a bit— I don’t know,” she said.

“You know you _can_ talk to me. You don’t need to do this alone,” Skye said, trying to be supportive. Of what, she didn’t know. 

Simmons stared at her cup and kept running her finger over the brim and opened her mouth as if about to talk. After some hesitation, she said, “I know I’ve been distant.” 

“It’s okay, whatever you need,” Skye said, judging the distance between their hands, only to scrap the idea to reach it a second later.

“I needed a moment to process. Our current situation is complicated, to say the least, and the down time isn’t making it easy to avoid it,” Simmons said, turning her gaze to Skye, “I’m not quite sure in which direction I’m headed.”

“Jemma,” Skye said. Her body moved closer, putting most of her weight on the table. 

“Without S.H.I.E.L.D. what is there for us?” Simmons said softly, “— us all. We have nothing in common to keep us together.” 

“Hey, we had our hearts broken by a big government agency. That’s something in common right there,” Skye said. Simmons laughed, and she seemed almost enthusiastic about it. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and was more at ease, putting her hands on the table, close to Skye’s. 

“Thank you,” Simmons said.

“You are welcome, I guess,” said Skye. She hadn’t seen Simmons relax in a while. She had missed it. “You know, back when I had a van and free time, I played a game where you’d get completely destroyed by the end if you didn’t solve everyone’s personal crap first, so this is good. Process away.”

“So you’re estimating our chances of survival based on interactive media? Excellent plan, Agent Skye,” Simmons said sarcastically.

It was Skye’s turn to laugh. Simmons took the back of Skye’s hand into her own and squeezed gently. “Night, Skye,” she said, and got up to leave. Skye nodded and went back to her meal. Simmons stopped at the door and turned, holding the cup in her hands trying to keep warm. 

“Mass Effect,” she said, getting Skye’s attention, “That’s the game you meant, isn’t it? Now it’s two things in common.” She smiles and gets back on route to her room.

Skye turns to what’s left of the tuna. She becomes aware of the unabashed grin on her face. She’s felt this way before. Things might get back to what they were.


	5. Forward.

A ping. The satellite grid has visual on a Hydra base with a skeleton crew, vulnerable enough to take back and get the necessary intel to hinder them. Mission objectives are set, but the layout of the place needs to be studied, and the plan finessed. The possibility of it being a trap needs to be taken into consideration as well. Coulson, May and Hill are discussing tactics in Koenig’s old office. All logistics involving the rest of the team have already been worked out. 

Triplett is talking to Simmons. Skye overhears them and makes out that it’s about one Simmons’ old papers, the ones she wrote before her whole identity got scrubbed. They ways in which they seem to understand each other is almost eery. Skye thought Simmons would never have that kind of relationship with anyone but Fitz, and by the daggers that had been shooting out of Fitz’s eyes lately, so did he. 

Now was not the time to get distracted. She should focus on getting ready for the mission tomorrow. _Stay frosty. Eyes open. We few, we happy few_ Skye thought, trying to remember any popular culture wisdom that might be of use. She had been under fire, and experienced the dread of her own life fading, but ever since Ward was gone, her mental toughness training had halted. 

She was picking it up as she went. She knew she needed to get angry enough push her into action. She was still shellshocked over the realization that Ward was Hydra. She doubted Ward bought into the whole _Hail Hydra_ movement, but that didn’t matter. Him being Hydra meant people she cared about had died, and her extended family was broken. It meant the sight of Koenig’s body every time she closed her eyes. _Good people lost._ , she thought. Skye didn’t care about the ideology behind it nearly as much as she cared about that fact. 

She needed to make a thing of it. Toast to them, get ready. _This one is for them,_ she thought as she grabbed a drink from the bar and placed it on the table. She brought the whisky up to her lips, and stopped. Her eyes contemplated a second glass. Maybe she should share this with someone, commemorate the terrible loses as best she could. 

With two glasses in hand, she heads to Fitz’s room. He’s sound asleep. She carries on, skipping Coulson and May completely. Triplett walks right next to her, having just left Simmons’ room, and he greets her. As he passes her, Skye knows this means a drink with Jemma Simmons. _No more excuses. Cowboy up. It’s what you wanted anyway,_ she thinks.

She knocks on the open door. Simmons looks up. Her momentarily stern face contrasted with the softness of her clothes. 

“Can I come in?” Skye asked. 

“Skye, hello. Yes, come in,” replied Jemma, putting her tablet aside and sitting on the edge of her bunk.

“I was wondering if you wanted a drink. You know, a toast before we head into the fray kinda thing.”

Simmons wears a warm grin on her face. “I’d laugh, but I think you’re not really joking, are you?” Simmons motions for Skye to sit next to her. Skye complies and hands her one of the glasses.

“Cheers. And, good luck,” said Skye.

“That’s a terrible toast, Skye,” Simmons said, moving her glass back so Skye couldn’t reach it with hers.

“Well, _you_ do better.”

“All right,” said Jemma, thinking for a moment, “May you be in heaven half an hour before the devil knows you’re dead.”

“Jesus Christ, Simmons, that’s bleak.”

“It’s traditional!”

“How about _chin chin_? That is both traditional and not a terrible omen.” 

Both of them are laughing now. Their lips meet the glasses with generous sips, and they feel themselves unwinding. Joyful. There’s nothing to hold back now.

“You know, my paper cut is barely there anymore. I hope I don’t get a new one tomorrow to replace it,” Skye said.

“Let me see.” Simmons put down her drink, and approached Skye, waiting for her to get her hands out of the way.

“Woah, I don’t know, my doctor is inebriated.”

“And still your best option, thank you very much.”

Skye moves her shirt back so Simmons can look at the scar. Simmons’ fingers are cold, having just been in contact with the glass. She looks concerned, and a moment later, pleased.

“You are doing quite well,” said Simmons. She moves back and picks her glass up again.

“Good. I was worried for a second you were gonna put me down.

“I wouldn’t dare, Coulson would have my hide.”

Skye finds herself laughing in spite of herself. “Oh, is that the only reason?”, she said shaking her head, “You get a lot sassier when you mix alcohol and impending doom.”

Simmons turns to Skye, and after a deep breath, she looks determined.

“I get brave, too,” Simmons said, closing the space between them and kissing Skye’s lips. She lingers, and Skye closes her eyes and breathes in. She opens them again when she can’t feel Simmons anymore. She’s still there, with a tranquil look on her face, and there seems to be no distance between them anymore. The only warm light in the room hits Simmons’ face, and Skye can’t remember seeing anything quite so beautiful before. 

“Simmons,” Skye said, moving only her lower lip, while finding it difficult to focus her eyes. She can’t tell if it’s the drink or the kiss.

“That’s three things in common now.” 

Simmons breathes deeply, and moves back closer to the headboard. Skye follows her movements, entranced. “It’s a big day tomorrow, we should go to bed,” Simmons said, guiding Skye closer to her. 


End file.
